Steward of Darkness

You hold your gaze steadily at a bloodbath, masterminding the horror of foul, gruesome crime scenes. Don’t shudder now you’re a butcher and the champion of grisly murders, for you take the night hostage to perpetrate ruthless, unspeakable evils.

You were the symbol of character and the monument of pride. Your ways hibernated among saintly inclinations and your morals mirrored the purest standards of perfection.

Virtue was made the noblest trait and the cluster of dignified stars endorsed your unequalled integrity. By your intention was the love of Heaven shed over the face of humanity and the patriarchs of Paradise disclosed their cherished, sacred secrets.

A pathetic spectacle was known to move you so you commiserated with the poverty of the poor and the trauma of the neglected. You incentivised the majestic generosities of the morning, prompting an avalanche of just, meritorious deeds.

The therapies of kindness were a bustling squad entertained in your heart so you had the propensity to do only what was right. Your arsenal was a stockpile of value as you meted out comfort and advantage in settings of feeble humans.

But now the apparitions have seduced you and a ghostly envoy bids you to succumb to their notorious cause. You’re robed with the vesture of fire making you hot to bring a hailstorm of unprecedented chaos and measureless mayhem.

Those eyes boil with the sensation of volcanic pits so you hunt the entirety of humanity piecemeal and as weaklings to devour. You’re bitter with the beastly wrath of atrocious spirits and you rip apart because you possess jagged claws of iron.

Your fabric of righteousness is a moth-eaten rag and you’re a dismal picture of the innocence and good morals which you once embodied. Down you go as a disgraced diplomat of Heaven now invested with the harrowing schemes of tragedy.

Those savage hands wreak apocalyptic havoc and all reprehensible disasters. Your peace is stolen except you smite, squeeze and bludgeon human skulls. The love in your heart is away on pilgrimage, sent off with the permanence of an eviction sign.

Silence is the order of the night but the chortling of hideous demons is sure to keep you amused. Your ears are attuned to the wisdom of hell as you orchestrate your next sour attempt. The awful pit is your infamous origin as a steward of darkness.

© Valentine Nnebe 2025

All Rights Reserved